


浴衣恋物語 Yukata Love Story

by n0cturne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, First Love, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Pining, Senpai Notice Me, cultural festival, japanese countryside
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0cturne/pseuds/n0cturne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It ruined Jem when he saw Takeda in that empty classroom. The exquisite ribbon that tied his hands crudely together behind his back.</p><p>His black hair gleaming, the only dark feature of the room. </p><p>The taste of mani on the corner of Takeda's mouth."</p><p>Jem feels strangled by the thought of his childhood friend Takeda leaving for University in a few months. He can hardly acknowledged the full depth of his feelings to himself, let alone speak them out loud. But then, an opportunity to act on his feelings presents itself with subterfuge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	浴衣恋物語 Yukata Love Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lusciousmouthboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusciousmouthboy/gifts).



> for marqy.
> 
> everyone in this story is meant to be in a comic i'm writing about a costume designer who travels to rural japan to work in a cultural festival and the colorful people he meets. for the time being i wanted to try an alternate take on that plot to explore the personalities at hand.
> 
> my rudimentary knowledge of anything japanese comes from the two months i've spent there visiting friends and family. as a longtime hostel manager i was inspired by a ryokan i stayed at in the countryside to write about hostel workers and guests in a small town in japan.
> 
> instead, here's this lol

 

It was a single moment that fucked everything up for Jem -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Takeda in that empty classroom. The exquisite ribbon that tied his hands crudely together behind his back.

 

His black hair gleaming, the only dark feature of the room. 

 

The taste of mani on the corner of Takeda's mouth. A heady wave that traveled between lips. 

 

Time was thick. Chest tight. Heat like tiny bursts in the air. 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Until that moment Jem had been acutely _contained_. It had probably been years that he wanted something from Takeda. But he'd never given himself time to think about it, to give words to that some thing. 

 

All of his time he'd dedicated to the direction of his high school's Traditional Arts Club (thus named for incorporating a variety of traditional Japanese crafts (and a few modern ones, to the distaste of the town's Arts Council) into a Festival Show twice a year). 

In fact, Jem had developed the club in his first year, upon realizing there seemed to be no way for the students of such a historic Japanese town to take place in its traditions. 

 

He could not have foreseen how popular the club would grow nor the success the Festival shows would have with the townspeople. 

 Jem thought this popularity mostly due to the beauty and talent of the club stars. Saeko and Takeda, the main actors, would no doubt go on to become popular in their own right, regardless of whether they pursued the arts. 

 

But he spent every waking minute (and had, for the past two years) working towards perfecting the Festival show anyway. 

 

His specialty was certainly in costume design, always had been. But by his second year as director he had a part in nearly every aspect of the club. 

The boundless creative work he thoroughly enjoyed. The tireless responsibility was beginning to weigh on him by the end of his junior year. Tireless responsibility, he was beginning to realize, he'd put on himself.

 

The Winter Festival show was more difficult than the Summer one. The club had chosen to adapt the Blossoms of Winter this semester for its lighthearted ending. Their musical compositions had to be more somber, their costumes more delicate than the previous show. 

 

Jem woke at the crack of dawn every school day to look over the club's progress, annotate, sketch, and fix what he could. He wanted everything organic, from the flowers which would adorn the tree costumes to the tiniest bit of dialogue between the two main actors. 

The club had spent many cold nights rehearsing songs, lines, and gestures under Jem's watchful eye. He felt his heart swell more each time. 

 

 

 

 

His club was blossoming freely, wildly and the results were going to be stunning. 

  

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The week before the Festival brought Jem exhilaration, anticipation, and (naturally) chaos.  

 

 

On the fist day of that final week Jem woke up late. Well, it might be more correct to say he got up late. For some reason he couldn't get himself out of bed. It was not that he was content to lie there. His body simply would not move. He was so much awake that his heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest. He stared at the ceiling in the dark for so long his heart had no choice but to calm down.

 

 

As he dressed he caught a glimpse of his hair in the mirror. It was a wild mess. The result of an evening shower and restless thought. He sighed at the vague dark circles under his eyes tugged on his uniform sleeve, and decided to worry about looking presentable after breakfast.

 

 

When he made his way downstairs his grandmother stood expectantly by the stove in the kitchen.

 

 

He greeted her quietly and set the kitchen table for Miso soup and Natto with white rice. The round feeling of the porcelain tea cups in his hand soothed his anticipation. 

 

 

"It's good that you slept in some, Jem-chan. You work yourself too hard." His grandmother commented in a way that was supposed to sound idle. 

 

 

"It's not necessarily work for me. I volunteer." He reminded her. 

 

 

"I know the Festival is important to you." She said. "But you should really enjoy some time with your friends. Mason and Takeda will be leaving very soon, won't they?"

 

 

The words shifted something in Jem's diaphragm. He let out a shaky breath as _those_  thoughts rose to the surface. She was right, of course. Mason would return to Australia shortly after the end of the school year. Takeda would graduate.

 

 

As he looked through his bowl a fat yellow yolk plopped softly onto his white rice. He glanced up.

 

 

His grandmother smiled at him. 

 

 

"You need strength today." She said. Oh, undoubtedly. 

 

 

He took the cup of coffee she offered with a bowed head. 

 

 

Once their meal was finished he gathered his papers and pencils to the table and set to work. 

 

 

He was so focused on tuning the details of the fake snow they'd be using he lurched in his seat when he felt a touch on his back. His grandmother stood behind him with his backpack.

 

 

"I called your name a few times, Jem-chan." She told him. "It's thirty minutes until school starts."

 

 

Jem backed out of the chair as quickly as he could and knocked his pens all over the floor. No time. He grabbed his backpack and gave grandmother a quick hug. 

 

 

"I'm sorry to be like this, Obaa-chan." Jem called as he raced out the door, "It will be over soon!" 

 

 

He winced at his own words. 

 

 

Of course, his neighbor Hotaru stood waiting for him at the gate of the house. She had her arms crossed over her elementary school uniform and her eyes glared sharply up at him from under her billowy black bangs. 

 

 

As he approached she re-slung her bag over her shoulder in preparation of their walk to school.

 

 

"Hotaru-chan." He greeted, carefully. "Your uncle isn't walking with us?"

 

 

Her bob bounced as she began to walk without him. She didn't respond to his query.

 

 

Jem clenched his fist nervously and followed.

 

 

"I told him to go ahead." Hotaru said, finally. She turned and nailed him with a heavy look. 

 

 

"Okay." He replied with a blink. 

 

 

She slowed down to walk beside him. 

 

 

They walked through the quiet streets towards the local high school. Jem kept a silent eye on his walking companion. She watched him, too, out of the corner of her eye.

 

 

"Don't you have to go to your school?" Jem asked as they hit a busy street.

 

 

Hotaru stuck her chin up at him from below the crossing light. 

 

 

 

 

"I have something important to ask you." She told him.

 

Jem felt his stomach drop. 

 

 

The Takedas had been his neighbors for as long as he'd lived in Japan. They were wonderful, musical people whose appreciation for beauty and quiet he greatly admired. But his classmate Takeda Masami and his older sister Hana had a mischievous streak that had sprung up on Jemat many an inopportune time.  Mischievous was too mild a word for Hotaru. She was all of the troublesome, cunning traits of her mother and uncle put together. 

 

 

Her so-called "pranks" were infamous throughout town. She had gotten the upper hand on numerous people - people half her age, people on the arts council, especially anyone she perceived as entitled or needlessly haughty. 

 

 

(Jem had to admit that he was often amused with the outcome of these pranks.)

 

 

 "Well, um, what is it?" Jem asked.

 

 

"My uncle is leaving for university in a month." Hotaru said. "As you know."

 

 

Jem rubbed his hands against his arms. They felt frozen. "Yes?" He prompted.

 

 

"Who knows if he'll even come home for summer vacation." She said. 

 

 

Jem's chest hurt. "Yeah?"

 

 

"Isn't there something important for you to tell him before he leaves?" She asked shrewdly. 

 

 

Jem started to walk as they light changed. 

 

 

"Jem-chan." He heard her call behind him. 

 

 

He didn't turn around.

 

 

"Won't you regret it?" She called again. 

 

 

"I don't have time to deal with this." He mumbled as he walked further ahead. 

 

 

"I never thought you were a coward, Jem-chan!" Hotaru shouted. 

 

 

He stopped. "There's the Festival. And University for Takeda. Nothing that important to say." 

 

 

She touched his hand from behind. He looked down at her sullen face.

 

 

"It _is_  important. Very important." She said imploringly. "If you don't tell him, you won't keep in touch. I know it. And you'll be sad."

 

 

Jem stared through her hand touching his.

 

 

"Sorry, Hotaru. There's nothing to tell. Your uncle makes every day more difficult for me." He gave her a small smile. 

 

 

The look in her eyes as she turned to walk away was reckoning, foreboding. Jem felt an involuntary shiver up his spine as he hurried to the high school entrance.

 

 

What did she honestly expect him to do? If anyone in the school were to find out, let alone Takeda - 

 

 

But there wasn't anything to find out.

 

 

He raised a shaky hand to run through his curly hair. 

 

 

Well, fuck. He'd forgotten about his bedhead. 

 

 

He opened his locker with a long sigh and dumped his backpack into it. As he looked at his wild hair in the little mirror magnetized to the corner a shape contorted in the background. 

 

 

The arms that clenched around his chest were somewhat anticipated. He stood still as Mason squeezed him with his usual delight. 

 

 

"Good morning, Jem-u~!" Mason cooed in his funny accent. 

 

 

"Yeah, yeah, good morning." Jem said, pushing his friend's arms off and sagging. He felt like resting his head against his locker for the rest of the day.

 

 

"Woah, dude, are you alright?" Mason asked, slipping easily into English. 

 

 

Jem squinted at him. "Please, don't switch languages so early in the morning." 

 

 

Mason, a foreign exchange student from Australia, had arrived at their school in April. Why this goofy musician had chosen to spend a year in Bumblefuck, Japan, Jem still didn't really know. But Mason was a fun addition to the Traditional Arts club. And, if pressed, Jem would admit, a good friend. 

 

 

He didn't have the same social boundaries that often made it difficult for Jem to really connect with his classmates on a personal level. But this also lead to a certain physical intimacy that Jem sometimes found exhausting.

 

 

"This better not be about the Festival show." Mason said with a pout. "Everything is fantastic right now, The costumes look kick ass, the music sounds kick ass, Saeko and Takeda are literally kicking ass as actors."

 

 

"Wait - what -"

 

 

"What I mean is _relax_ , Director-san." Mason winked. His freckles glowed with his smile in the grey light of the hallway.

 

 

Jem took a deep breath. "Yeah." 

 

 

Mason grinned and ruffled his hair.

 

 

"No! Don't do that!" Jem ducked out from under his hand.

 

 

"What's going on?" The voice of serenity called from behind Mason.

 

 

Jem felt his muscles loosen at the sight of his best friend. Her long, beautiful hair and delicate features beckoned him to press his face against her shoulder.

 

 

"Saeekoo~~!" Mason sang her name and tried to press his face into her other shoulder. "Jem got electrocuted on the way to school!"

 

 

Saeko dodged him easily and picked up a piece of Jem's hair. "What's wrong with you today?"

 

 

He broke a half hysterical laugh on the fabric of her crisp uniform shirt.

 

 

"There, there." She said and patted him on the back in a passing imitation of Jem's American father.

 

 

"Did you really get electrocuted? Or is this really about the festival?" She asked (chidingly, as though Jem had come up with that lie!) and pushed him back to survey his expression. "Honestly, Jem, there is nothing to concern yourself with. We could do the show tomorrow if we had to."

 

 

"It's not the Fest-" Jem took a deep breath. "You're right. There's nothing to be worried about."

 

 

"Nothing but the world's apparent hatred for his hair." Mason stage whispered to Saeko. 

 

 

Jem pinched him.

 

 

- 

 

 

 

 

 

Immediately after school, the club gathered in the baseball field. The musicians would need the school stage for most of the afternoon, so the non-musical members would practice their movements and lines, costume-less, outside for now. It was not ideal, but Mason and Saeko's earlier comments about the club eased Jem's mind as a younger student took roll.

 

He sat in front of Saeko in the cool grass and parted her glossy hair into sections to prepare it for styling. The actors who played the trees played around a few feet ahead. Jem closed his eyes as a breeze whipped past. 

 

"Is everyone here?" He called out and tossed the final section of hair over Saeko's shoulder.

 

"Um." The student who took roll said, her cheeks turning pink. "Well..."

 

Jem curled an errant, wind-blown bit of hair back behind Saeko's ear. He looked at the younger student expectantly.

 

"Takeda-senpai is not here." She squeaked. 

 

He sighed deeply. 

 

“Of course that guy isn’t here yet,” One of his clubmates said with a snicker. 

 

“Why does senpai get to be the star of the show when he’s always late?” Someone else muttered darkly. 

 

“Because he’s good at it. And good-looking,” Another said in response.

 

“I’ll go find Takeda-senpai,” Jem told them. “Saeko is in charge.” 

 

Her eyes glittered with amusement as he walked past her. 

 

He stalked wearily away from the group and the through the fields. 

 

There was a small group of students gathered to practice baton twirling in the shade of the school's south wall. On the track below a few of the boys on the winter field team breathed out warm puffs of air as they jogged in circles. The school windows were closed to the cool air so Jemcouldn't spy on the musicians in the auditorium. He let the wind blow through his unruly hair as he rounded the edge of the grounds.

 

 

Takeda was exactly where Jem thought to find him - on the other side of the school boundary, lent against a tree with a cigarette dangling from his lips. The smoke blowing out of his mouth made the air appear much colder than it was (Jem touched his collarbone as though to reach for a scarf). Takeda's short, inky hair fluttered up with the breeze. He looked at Jem with his usual hooded gaze and the sun glinted off of his sleek glasses. 

 

 

Jem hosted himself over the school fence and surveyed his tardy club mate. It seemed Takeda had forgone shaving this morning. He was one of the only high school students Jem had met who could produce stubble (though, knowing Takeda he wasn't showing that off, just couldn't be bothered). The sight of his dark jaw produced a tremor in Jem's abdomen. He turned his gaze to the yellowed grass as a familiar hurt speared through him. 

 

 

"It's three." Jem told Takeda with a raised brow.

 

 

Takeda's gaze remained steady.

 

"Club's started." Jem said. "You were the only one missing. As usual." He clenched his fingers through the fence behind him.

 

 

"Hm." Takeda replied and his mouth twitched with amusement. 

 

 

His drawling was often lethargic and dismissive. Yet whenever he spoke to Jem it held some endearing quality. As though his words were still dismissive, but just of _words_  and not of Jem. Takeda's disregard for what he deemed unnecessary was surprisingly charming when paired with his evident social awareness. Jem theorized that Takeda's popularity was almost entirely due to his air of mystery (an air he did not even need to try for). Takeda was a clever, talented arts student who was at once laconic, impersonal, and absolutely languid. He moved with some hidden sensuality that was captivating -

 

 

Jem hopped back onto the school grounds and beckoned his upperclassman to follow him with a narrowed glance.

 

 

Takeda's stride was leisurely, his legs appeared especially long next to - Jem bit his lip and looked away.

 

 

"Rough morning?" Takeda murmured.

 

 

Jem curled his lip. Was it possible that Hotaru had spoken with her Uncle that morning? Was Takeda curious about it? 

 

 

"What was that about this morning?" Jem asked. His stomach turned. He looked straight ahead.

 

 

There was no response. When Jem turned to look at him Takeda had one eyebrow raised. Jem cleared his throat.

 

 

"Did Hotaru say anything to you?" He tried again.

 

 

"Why?" Takeda said. Discerning.

 

 

"Ah.. nothing," Jem replied as they reached the rest of the club. 

 

Takeda stared at him for a moment more before he walked away to join the other main actors in their warm-ups. Jem watched as he began to stretch. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

The first time Jem met Takeda was the first month that he arrived in Japan. Jem had been a mess of an eleven year old kid back then. His father had sent him from the States to live with his grandmother without much explanation. 

 

In a word it was - devastating. 

 

Not only was he sent to live in a different country - with another language - his grandmother lived in the mountains. 

 

In the middle of nowhere. 

 

The town she resided in was most famous for its Folk Music Festival. As in Japanese Traditional Folk Music. 

 

There were two convenience stores in the area. One bar. A couple of traditional inns. 

 

For Jem - who dreamed of dyeing his hair blue, designing wild haute couture and outlandish costumes, living in _full color_ \- it seemed like a horrible punishment. He’d spent the last few years in elementary school doodling and creating costume sketches for his classmates. He was _known_ and liked at school for his creative prowess, his stylish dress.

 

In Kokufu everyone wore a uniform. 

 

Jem immediately withdrew himself. He studied his Japanese diligently, helped Obaa-chan around the house, practiced his conversation in the mirror. But he never went out. He didn’t feel he needed friends in this unimaginative world. 

 

The world felt so cold, so stunted then. He threw all of his old sketches out. Useless, he thought. Useless to this life, anyway.

 

But then, he’d come across that scene on his neighbors lawn.

 

As he made his way back from the convenience store, a bottle of Pocari Sweat and pringles dangling from his hand, he saw a commotion on his street. 

 

The closer he got to his house the brighter the picture before him became. It was the house next door. 

 

The Takeda family, Obaa-chan had told him.  


A huge group of people bustled about, carrying various bamboo clappers, gongs, woodblocks, bell-trees, zithers, lutes. The lawn was strewn with flowers that had fallen out of wooden baskets. Plucking strings and metal clangs filled the air.

 

And all of them were decked out in traditional garb - loose, gorgeous fabrics that billowed and twisted in interesting folds. Some soft, some vibrant. Intricate yet subtle hairstyles. 

 

Jem’s heart felt fit to burst out of his chest at the sight. It was the most beautiful sight in all of Japan. 

 

Colorful. Delightful. 

 

He could even appreciate the music - the way the instruments’ design seemed to match the clothing, the vibe.

 

He stood and watched them for nearly an hour from down the street. 

 

As he walked up the steps to his grandmother’s house he saw a figure under the tree in Obaa’s side alley. He cautiously made his way over.

 

It was a boy, around his age, reading a book in the shade of the small tree. He wore a blue Yukata with a bright, gorgeously fastened obi at the waist. 

 

“Um, hello.” Jem said as he got closer. “This is my grandmother’s house.”

 

The boy looked up at Jem from over his glasses. He said nothing, his eyes very dark, his mouth twisted in a flat line that spoke of annoyance. 

 

“I’m Jem. I live here.” Jem offered.” Who are you?”

 

The boy closed his book with one hand and put it in his lap. “Takeda Masami.” 

 

They stared at each other.

 

“Are you Japanese?” Takeda asked, still peering up.

 

“My mom was Japanese.” Jem said. There was a pause.

 

“Are you hiding, Takeda Masami?” He asked.

 

Takeda shrugged. “They’re taking a bunch of pictures. It’s a pain. I just want to read.”

 

Jem chewed on his lip. “Do you want to come inside? Obaa-chan made some dessert.” 

 

Takeda tilted his head. A breeze came by and made him wrinkle his nose. He smiled a bit at Jem. “Okay, Jem-u. I’ll come inside.”

 

“It’s Je-ehm.” Jem mumbled as he held the door open for his neighbor.

 

They spent the afternoon in a kind of peaceful cohabitation in Obaa’s kitchen. Takeda read his book. Jem drew, for the first time in a month, what he’d seen out on the lawn. 

 

He looked up every now and then at the boy across from him.

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, maybe it had been a long time that Jem had been in a quiet sort of love with his neighbor. 

 

But that quiet affection had burst into an uncomfortable longing as they grew into their teenage years. Takeda seemed to grow more handsome every year. His grew into his face too well.

 

Now that face was distracting Jem from the Festival. 

 

Did Hotaru really expect him to confess? Didn’t she understand that Jem and Takeda’s relationship relied on a mutual, strong desire for peace and quiet? 

 

_I don’t have the words to tell him_ , Jem thought as he walked through the halls That Day after festival practice. He pushed a cart full of costumes slowly in front of him. 

 

He didn’t even know if he had the words to explain how empty it would feel without Takeda’s presence next door. 

 

As he wandered along lost in thought he almost missed the open classroom beside him. He stopped in time and pushed the cart against the wall. Was it another club meeting? He certainly didn’t hear anything. 

 

When he peeked inside he took a surprised step backward. 

 

There in the front of the classroom was Takeda. 

 

Handcuffed to the metal underside of a desk and blindfolded with a bright blue ribbon from one of the costumes. 

 

He sat very still atop the student desk, his knees slightly parted so his pants bunched up at the dip of his thighs. His stance seemed very natural for someone tied up. 

 

There was not much room in Jem’s brain for thought. 

 

Barely the question of how and why Takeda had ended up like this (definitely a prank by some jealous classmates in the club). 

 

Instead, his body pulled him forward. He took a step into the classroom. The sun overwhelmed him with its flow from the broad windows. 

 

He took another step. 

 

There were half erased kanji on the blackboard. Something about the government. 

 

He took another step. 

 

Takeda’s shirt was rumpled and pulled up a bit to show a small expanse of skin at his stomach. Probably because of how he was forced to hold himself. 

 

Jem took another step. 

 

Takeda tilted his head and Jem understood somewhere inside that the other boy knew someone else was there. 

 

He took another step. Takeda’s mouth fell slightly open as though he meant to speak. Jem couldn’t move his eyes from Takeda’s lips. 

 

He took the final step towards the desk and his hands began to shake. His legs. 

 

Before he could form a coherent thought beyond _this is my chance_ and _shit no wait_ , he’d leaned forward and kissed Takeda, who’s mouth was soft, slack. Jem’s fingers trembled as they grazed Takeda’s cheek. 

 

The unexpected action and the summer heat speared through Jem as dizziness. His tongue flicked out reflexively to taste the seam between Takeda’s lips. The inside of Takeda’s mouth was blazing. He could taste the soy that must have flavored the older boy’s lunch. He touched the smoothness of Takeda’s bottom teeth. Oh. 

 

Takeda’s lips suddenly moved under his, whether to kiss back or say something Jem didn’t know. 

 

Jem faltered and reality fell around him. What he’d been doing. _Fuck! No. Wait -_

 

He stumbled backwards and his heart fell straight into his stomach. 

 

He watched Takeda lift a hand to his mouth and scrunch his nose. 

 

Jem was frozen on the ground. He felt impossibly low. When he gathered enough strength he ran out of the classroom and nearly forgot to take the costume cart.

 

When he finally got the cart back into its closet he collapsed on the ground and put a hand to his chest. He tried to control his breath. His pulse. 

 

His head felt hot and heavy as he inhaled deeply.

 

He choked on a laugh as he thought that he could not even tell someone to set Takeda free. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
